


Afterglow Decision

by genmitsu



Series: Imagination Infection [9]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Time, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 05:21:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17037413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genmitsu/pseuds/genmitsu
Summary: Jim and Oswald finally have a moment to themselves.--Oswald still can’t quite believe this is real. That Jim not only is here with him right now, but he’s also whisked him away the night before to kiss him and, and more, and he slept with him in the same bed, twined around him like the best kind of blanket. Oswald can’t fight the blush creeping onto his cheeks at the thought.





	Afterglow Decision

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter gave me a ton of trouble, but I am finally satisfied with it. Hope you will be as well :)

 

 

Jim comes closer, his face having this unusual softness about it when he looks at Oswald and Martin sitting on the carpet. Oswald still can’t quite believe this is real. That Jim not only is here with him right now, but he’s also whisked him away the night before to kiss him and, and more, and he slept with him in the same bed, twined around him like the best kind of blanket. Oswald can’t fight the blush creeping onto his cheeks at the thought.

“What are you two up to?” Jim asks, sitting next to him and looking both at him and Martin. Martin, previously more excited, now seems subdued and shrinking away in Jim’s presence. Jim frowns a little, and glances at Oswald questioningly.

“The construction set, right, Martin?” Oswald asks him, not missing a beat. There’s definitely still some tension stemming from the fact that the time Martin saw Jim last before his capture he was in cahoots with Sofia and they all knew what it’s led to. There’s no easy way for them except through.

“Oh, this one looks familiar,” Jim says, following his lead. “I’m sure you would’ve preferred something else to the police station, but I was pretty set on it from the start,” he rubs his nape. “How’s it going?”

Martin looks at him dubiously and shows the progress. The police station is almost complete, but it lacks a significant part of the back wall and Martin was trying to figure out how to complete it.

“Ah,” Jim smiles sheepishly. “Afraid that’s my fault. I lost a bit of parts when…” his face is shadowed by something - a memory? “Well, a long time ago. Sorry.” He contemplates it a little, then grins, boyish and so damn cute. “What do you say it was a daring escape? Like in Westerns, where they break out by using horses and tearing that wall down?”

Oswald looks at Jim, hardly believing his ears. “You’re not siding with the police, Jim?”

“It’s a game, Oswald,” he grins now, directly at him. “Kids play all kinds of games, you know. No need to force them into sharing our views.”

Oswald hums, conceding, but he’s very surprised Jim thinks this. With the way he’s been brought up the ideas of justice and law enforcement should’ve been coursing through his veins from the start, but… oh. They do, Oswald realizes belatedly. It’s just that now Jim’s let go of the notion that justice had everything to do with the law. And this makes him hopeful, so hopeful for the future, that Jim might really stay with him, and not shun him again. Because even if he took it so gratefully, Jim’s sudden honesty and affection that he’s finally allowed them to share… Oswald still thought it would come to an end.

Maybe these words are a warning. After all, Jim cannot approve of Martin being so close to the illegal and dangerous dealings, after all, it put him in danger. Oswald doesn’t approve of that either, although his concern doesn’t coincide with Jim’s.

Martin begins to get busy with the set again, taking more of the blocks out to make the wall seem more broken, and acts out the escape scene, and he smiles shyly back at Jim when he laughs at the hapless cops failing to follow the getaway car because of stumbling over debris.

This is… unique, Oswald thinks. Has he ever seen Jim laugh before? Has he ever been so relaxed, in Oswald’s presence no less? Things Oswald could only allow himself to dream about, when he was feeling particularly brave - or particularly desolate - of actually sharing something like this with the person who owned his heart since the very beginning, and now they’re here, within his grasp. Is there a catch? There must be, surely. Nothing ever comes free or easy in Gotham, and certainly not your heart’s desire. Those have to be fought over, won, clawed out of the opponent’s grasp with every bit of your strength and more.

What will this cost him? And would he pay it gladly or regret it the moment the transaction’s made?

Oswald doesn’t have the answer.

The day passes all too quickly for his liking, almost ephemeral. This… wasn’t in his life before. Wasn’t allowed. And now, even thinking of actually having more days like this one is making his chest constrict and ache.

Martin asks him if he could stay. He can’t, not now. His place is in Gotham now more than ever before, the city requiring an even firmer hand to make it safer for people he cares about. He has to be in control, has to own Gotham and make her an extension of his will if he wants to continue. A pacified Gotham would provide a lot less friction between him and Jim. Would make it possible to actually have his little friend there. Would make a better place.

Jim’s mother and Martin were invited by the neighbours to a barbeque party and a movie, so they go, Martin being reluctant and making Oswald promise he would still be here when they come back. Oswald promises that easily. Then they leave, and he’s alone with Jim.

The notion doesn’t sink in until a while. The door’s closed after Jim’s mother with Martin in tow, he heard the click of the lock, and then it’s silent and they stand there in the hallway, side by side. Jim clears his throat.

“You want anything?” he asks. “A drink maybe?”

“Yes, thank you,” Oswald replies. A drink would be nice. He’s not exactly nervous, no, but he’s somehow all aflutter as he follows Jim to the living room.

Jim takes out a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet, pours it into two glasses and joins Oswald as he looks at the photos on the mantelpiece. Most of the photos are of Jim, of course, as a kid, as a teen, gangly and thin, as a young man in the Academy uniform. He’s mostly serious, but in some photos he smiles and Oswald wants to steal one to be able to see that smile and keep it close.

“You’ve always looked so handsome, Jim, it’s unfair,” he says, glancing at him as he accepts his whiskey. “Years only add to your charm.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jim says, ducking his head. “Never saw your kid photos, you know?”

“You don’t have any in my file?” Oswald smiles and takes a sip.

“Only the current ones,” Jim sips too. “I _may_ have pocketed one of those.”

“My, Detective!” Oswald chuckles. “I ought to pocket one of yours to get even.”

Jim raises his eyebrows at him, but no way will Oswald admit to having a photo of Jim in his possession. He’s not a schoolboy, after all.

“Your father?” Oswald asks, seeing a picture of an older man with a strong resemblance to Jim, same strong features, same blond hair. Jim has his mother’s eyes though, kind and attentive.

“Yeah,” Jim nods and takes a big gulp before putting the glass down. Something is bothering him? What could it be?

“I’m sorry if I brought up bad memories, Jim,” Oswald says, settling his own glass beside Jim’s and reaching out to put his hand on Jim’s arm. “As much as I’d love to, I do not know everything about you.”

Jim stares at him, at his hand, and gulps visibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I… want you to,” he says. “I must’ve lost my mind, Oswald. Anyone would tell me how crazy and stupid that is.” Jim steps closer now and they’re almost flush against each other. “But they don’t know you. And it’s not stupid or crazy at all.”

Oswald smiles, trying his best not to melt against Jim’s touch, not to disappear in the feeling of his body so close. This, what they have… it must have clarity before they proceed with anything - more of anything.

“Jim,” Oswald says softly, looking at him through his eyelashes, nervous and fluttery, but determined. “What are your intentions for… us?”

The little word sounds too serious, too heavy, too - needy? Is he? He does need the answer, and he does need Jim, but…

“I want you,” Jim says with difficulty. “I always want you. In all kinds of sense. In all kinds of ways,” he goes on, growing more confident. “In my life. In my house. In my bed.” Jim takes his hand. “I love you. So I want you on any terms you wish to set.”

Oswald feels the ground shift from under his feet. He wished - and he hoped - and then he didn’t - and this still floors him. It’s Jim, after all. The most special person in the world, the most complex one, and nothing is going to be easy, only hard. But… he never expected anything to be easy. And the most important thing about this is that Jim lets him decide how he wants it, not forcing him to accept scraps he could spare, but actually giving him first choice.

Jim’s changed.

“Jim,” Oswald breathes out. “Jim, you’re…”

“Oswald, at a loss for words?” he teases him softly. “That must be the first.”

“Shut up,” Oswald pulls him closer and kisses him, hot and desperate, instantly short of breath. His hands are still tugging at Jim’s shirt, not letting him go, when he breaks away.

“If you still had doubts, Jim,” he says, playful, “I want you as well. But…”

“But?” Jim whispers, as if enthralled.

“I want…” What _does_ he want, really? Not the white-picket fence house, not the idyllic American dream home. His mother might’ve wanted it at one point - Jim might’ve wanted it at one point, but he, what does _he_ want? Jim, certainly, more than anything. His love. His respect. His consideration. He wants everyone to know that Jim is his, only his, that this proud, unbending, unyielding man chose Oswald as the one to belong to. But it would paint a target over both of them. His adversaries would want to get to him through hurting Jim, and it would be so easy to lure him somewhere on the pretense of a case - even make a case, if it meant they’d be taking out both of them. Jim’s higher-ups too, they would certainly not turn a blind eye to something as outrageous as a police detective married-- married? Does he want a marriage to Jim? It’s not like it would mean a lot - but it also would, a lot. Oh God.

“Hey,” Jim says, softly. “I’m not a big fan of this hurt look in your eyes. What’s wrong? Tell me.”

Oswald looks up at him, feeling thoroughly mute. It’s suddenly so difficult to voice it, even prompted, even if Jim would certainly accept it, even if Jim told him exactly that. The lump in Oswald’s throat only seems to be swelling.

“Shh,” Jim says, kissing Oswald’s cheek, slowly making a trail to his cheekbone. “Don’t force yourself. I’m not going anywhere… I’ll be there for you when you’re ready.” He rests his hands on the small of Oswald’s back, so warm, so real. This is real. This is, undoubtedly, real.

It still feels like a dream. Jim looks at him, handsome as ever, he touches him, he wants him - well, that’s not new, but so amazing in the way that Jim doesn’t deny it anymore. Doesn’t try to hide it. That he admits it fully, wanting to take other steps. And he loves him.

Oh.

Jim Gordon loves him.

It finally, finally sinks in, settling in Oswald’s mind, taking a place inside it, like a stone thrown to the bottom of the lake. You don’t see it anymore, even the ripples are long gone, but it’s there, inside, forever, and more precious than any jewel. Their one intimate truth.

Oswald can’t handle this calmly. His heart beats faster, his cheeks flush as he presses into Jim and buries his face into his shoulder. It’s so hot. Jim is so unbearably hot against him and Oswald must be going mad altogether. He wants to melt into Jim. He wants Jim melting all over him, right now.

“Jim,” he murmurs into his ear, lips almost touching skin. “Take me upstairs.”

Oswald _feels_ that great thump Jim’s heart makes as if it is his own. Maybe it is, he can’t tell at this point, and then Jim just sort of slides down and picks Oswald up, his hold firm and steady under Oswald’s buttocks, and he grins at his startled yelp. Oswald holds on to his shoulders, ducking his head as they make it upstairs, and Jim only releases him once they’re in his room again, to push him onto the bed and join him there, over him, on him, and kissing him breathless.

Jim’s weight is so pleasant on top of him, bringing to mind their many moments of Jim shoving him against a wall to snarl in his face - what a perfectly redundant way to deal with sexual tension, Oswald giggles, and it earns him a nip to his neck, and a chuckle from Jim as he lifts his face up to look at him. Oswald pulls him back into a kiss, open-mouthed and hot, and then Jim’s tongue is inside his mouth, an extremely welcome intruder, and he moans, unable to contain the sound, unable to hold back his reactions, and does he really want to? The time for holding back, if there ever was any between them, is certainly not now, not with Jim carefully sliding his hot palms under Oswald’s shirt and eliciting more sounds from him, gasps, moans, everything. Jim feels so tense against him, like a coiled spring ready to snap, and Oswald runs his fingers over his rigid muscles, trying to ease the tension a little bit. He gets lost in the feeling of Jim’s skin under his hands.

“Oswald…” Jim groans, his hips grinding into him, a reflexive, innate motion that Oswald can only answer to with his own, making them both let out a moan. “Oswald, fuck…”

Oswald reaches up for another kiss, even hotter, filthier, all teeth and tongue and lust. Jim’s hand snakes down to between them, finally working the fly open, and he palms Oswald’s cock through his underwear, and Oswald has to tell him how good that feels, but it’s difficult to when he’s biting his lip so hard. His breath is strained, same as Jim’s, and they’re still wearing too much, even if Jim’s shirt bunches up in his hand so nicely.

“Oswald,” Jim pauses, never removing his palm from Oswald’s cock, and would he hurry up already? Oswald tries to get his wits back about him, trying to listen to what Jim thinks is important enough for them to stop moving. “You’ve never done this, right?”

Oswald shakes his head. There was some fumbling in his youth that never went anywhere, and he’s masturbated often enough, but the way Jim’s touch alone ignites him tells him how different that would be from doing it yourself. It’s a little frightening, how intense his reactions are - and a whole lot more exciting.

“Do you want me on the receiving end?” Jim asks, and he’s so deliciously flushed, his hair a mess from Oswald running his hands through it during their kisses, that the idea of fucking _him_ is almost enough for Oswald to come here and now, but, but… Oh, to have this man, his Jim, keening at his touch as he drives his cock deeper into him, oh, Oswald’s mind reels. But he is so out of his depth here, regretfully - and he wants Jim to enjoy it, not just satiate his own greed. Oswald is halfway undone already, no way he’s going to last like this.

“S-show me how it feels, first,” he utters, looking at Jim and hoping to convey his feelings. He wouldn’t want to hurt Jim, and the way Oswald is now, he wouldn’t be able to control himself all too well. Jim deserves better than that.

“With pleasure,” Jim says, kissing him softly on his lips and proceeding down his neck. “But don’t forget about that option,” he murmurs against his skin and finally, finally pushes Oswald’s underwear down to grasp his cock with his hand.

Oswald gasps, tensing up, his fingers digging into Jim’s shoulders as Jim strokes him more, and the arousal is building up inside him, cresting, cresting, but before he can tip over, Jim removes his hand and proceeds with pulling Oswald’s pants off him. It’s madness, really, to be so on edge and left unattended, and Oswald whimpers, annoyed and - angry - and impatient.

“Jim, please,” he says, his voice breaking. “Hurry the hell _up._ ”

“Someone’s in a mood,” Jim smiles into his stomach, pulling the shirt up. His lips are so light on Oswald’s skin, so tender, it’s too much and not enough. Oswald gathers enough strength to strip off his shirt and whatever’s left on his upper body, eager for Jim to touch him more, and then Jim catches his wrists and pins them to the bed, kissing up his chest, still feather-light and gentle, and so sweet. Oswald shivers and gasps when Jim’s lips lock over his nipple and Jim _licks_ it, once, twice, sucks it in and then gives it another lick and it’s impossible to take, too much, too much, and he still holds his wrists and Oswald can only arch his back, and he doesn’t know if he chases the touch or tries to get away from under it. Jim switches to the other one, giving it the same treatment, and the air hits Oswald’s wetted skin, and he whimpers, overwhelmed and reduced to a mess of moans and cries. He never knew he was so sensitive there. He never knew it could be like that. He calls out Jim’s name like a prayer as Jim’s thigh presses to Oswald’s cock - just. barely. _there._

“Ready for more?” Jim then has the audacity to ask him, and he slides down as soon as Oswald manages to nod. ‘More’ turns out to be a lot, and Oswald can’t even remember what it was that Jim did or where he’d touched him, because all of it was so good, so thrilling, so unbelievably pleasant. He vaguely remembers kisses on his stomach and lower, light touches on the inside of his thighs, and Jim’s first tentative intrusion. It should’ve felt more bizarre. It should’ve felt alien. Instead, Oswald is melting on Jim’s fingers and he wants more, and more, so much more, opening up for everything that Jim wants to give to him.

Oswald’s moaning for him as Jim thrusts into him, as Jim’s cock stretches him from the inside, the sounds uncontrollable, desperate, and he’s clinging to Jim, wrapping himself around his body as he tries to get even closer, as if this is not enough. Oswald wants to dissolve into Jim, become his breath and his sweat and his heartbeat, and then the intensity inside the both of them coils and snaps, and he comes with a cry as Jim pushes inside him erratically, following. Oswald shudders and trembles on Jim’s cock, and he needs Jim, he needs him so much and now they can never go back. It’s almost bittersweet to think that, and their kisses turn from frantic to slower, sweeter, almost sad, but Jim holds Oswald so tight and so close, as if he never intends to let him go - and Oswald wouldn’t change a thing.

“I love you,” he whispers to Jim as they lie on the bed, spent and languid. “I love you so much,” he murmurs into Jim’s neck as they stand together in the shower and water pours all over them. Jim massages his shoulders and back, rubs shampoo into his hair, smiling, happier than Oswald has ever seen him, happier than he has ever felt.

“I’ve always loved you,” Oswald says as they’re back in the bed again and he pushes slowly into Jim, letting him adjust, adjusting himself - it’s so overwhelming, so tight, so inexplicably _right_. Jim is so hot for him, and the sounds he makes are obscene, wanton, hungry, spurring Oswald on, making him pick the pace up, making him lose his head completely, lose himself in this indescribable moment. It’s everything Oswald has ever imagined about being with Jim, and also so much more. Like any plan, no matter how meticulously deliberated, shatters faced with reality, Oswald’s expectations and hopes, even his wildest ones, are paling in comparison with the reality of Jim in his arms.

“Only you, Jim,” he utters as his release takes him over, shortly after Jim’s, and he collapses on top of him, dirty and sweaty once again, and still too content to care.

And now, as they lie there together, Oswald feels that he can finally say it. That initial uneasiness, that nervous stifling fear dissolved under Jim’s lips, Jim’s touches, drowned in Jim’s loving gaze.

 

Jim all but purrs at Oswald’s fingers slowly caressing his cheek. There’s that pleasant soreness all over his body, that immensely satisfying fatigue taking over after exertion. Oswald calls his name and Jim hums in response, not opening his eyes.

“You asked me what I wanted,” he says, his voice soft and steady and - hopeful? Jim looks at him, once again mesmerized by the green oceans that are Oswald’s eyes, and he hopes in turn that Oswald wouldn’t want them to go back to the way they were. He wouldn’t. Would he?

“Yes,” he whispers, his throat dry. “What is it, Oswald?”

Please, please…

“I want us to be married.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for making it here :)  
> As always, any feedback is greatly appreciated!


End file.
